Only the Strongest will Survive
by shallwedance
Summary: Originally Worlds Apart. Bella is a vampire but it didn't happen quite how she'd imagined so now she's stuck in a strange new world with no help from any of the Cullens. And with everything happening at once, how will she cope? First FanFic so please read
1. a History of the Heroine and a Visitor f

**I am on a mission to sort this story out. Chapter 11 is a summary for the first 10 chapters if you don't want to read those chapters and chapter 12 is where I am picking up from. It has been so long since I even thought about this story. **

**So enjoy! These first chapter are how I wrote them (so long ago) so it is my first FanFic and any reviews would be appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, Stephenie Meyer does. I sent one of 'em in outer space**

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Chapter 1 - a History of the Heroine and a Visitor from across Seas

I was the last vampire of my generation, and am the first of this one.

I am millions of years old and now, after all of those long years waiting, I am able to once more have company.

I have survived the recent centuries floating through the void of space, waiting for the universe to once more explode and create the planet upon which I shall reside: Earth.

I was grabbed by the oldest vampires of the time, the Volturri, and changed into a vampire. While awaiting the end of the pain I did not realise the planets turn upon themselves with such force that the distance that had taken them countless millennia to travel, was recovered in a matter of days, crashing around me. The Volturri knew what was about to happen - Alice had told them - and in a desperate fight for survival had created me to carry on the race of the vampires. I was the strongest vampire ever known, many experiments and mistakes had occurred before I had been plucked from the streets to await my fate. I was made to withstand the force of space without the tiniest hint of pain, and it had worked. What could not be anticipated was the boredom and loneliness. Not least the thirst. I have not fed once since the implosion of the universe and am now half mad with thirst. And I know it.

But now I walk the new earth, I find myself oh so patient from the years of darkness. I saw how it all began and I shall continue to see the world progressing.

Unfortunately, for although I am patient, I am also incredibly curious. I cannot wait to see others, other sentient beings with whom I can hopefully interact. I find the idea of another thousand years like seconds trickling past my eyes compared to my life so far, but they are still thousands of years, still plenty of time. I find myself with the knowledge of how to manipulate life to evolve more quickly. I decide my future plans shall be to evolve the now microscopic organisms into fully fledged humans within a decade. A tough challenge but one I shall definitely complete.

_5 years later_

I have completed my project ahead of schedule and exceedingly proud of it, my fellow beings are walking around me in their towns. I have led them to believe in all beliefs of the previous cycle and have helped them with technology up to electricity, it hurt me so in the area of my still heart to see them die of disease, disease that I knew how to eradicate, but could not for fear of upsetting the precarious balance of life and destroying all of my hard work. They have not yet honed electricity far enough to do anything with it, but the human mind is a wondrous thing and they shall succeed!

I hide, looking up at my world from the window, level with the pavement. I see ladies' dresses swishing through the street, all possible colours in a mixture of vibrancy; the shiny boots of the men; the street urchins running through the crowd, knives in their hands as they cut the money pouches of the rich.

There is but one problem in this world of mine: the hunger is impossible. I have given up breathing and keep myself hidden in my house. I am the recluse of the town; I have spoken to no one and – thanks to my incredible hearing – have been able to deduct that I am a lady in disgrace, sent from my husband after cheating with his brother. I allegedly murdered both husband and brother in a fit of rage and fled here to deepest darkest London.

I am, by now, a myth. It has been years since humans discovered the ready built city of London with nothing but the written note that it was free to them, held no dangers as long as locked doors were not unlocked. The note then assured them that there was only one locked door. My door has never been disturbed since it was found and it is now considered a superstition by the young of the humans.

I am content with watching these children progress and witnessing the trivia of the world, I feel no need to socialise, just to watch.

_Many years later_

Bella's POV

The silly humans have lost each others notes! Electricity has become a suspicion of magic. I must replicate the notes and get them out to the world somehow. You'd think they would look after such important findings as electricity but no. They are lost at the event of death. What is a partner in science for if not to pass on information to? I shake my head but cannot scold them too much, they are my creation and I cannot bear a grudge upon something holding so much sentimental value.

Edward's POV

I have heard tell of a mythical recluse in the bustling city of London and, being of a curious disposition, I believe I shall never rest until the recluse is either proved mythical or is brought into the social circle of the merry English. Although even I believe it to be a little excessive to travel the treacherous journey to England for this one legend; I shall have to wait for another reason to go.

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I am ecstatic! A relation of mine is needed to correspond between a big business company over here in America and its equivalent in England. He needs a companion and I have applied and been accepted! I shall not be required for all of the time with plenty of access to the streets and my own guide. I should find what I am looking for (the door behind which resides the Lady) as, although it is not regarded as a tourist spot, everyone in London has heard about it, they then travel and word spreads.

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I have finally arrived in London. It was a long and arduous journey but, apart from feeling queasy, I was not sick, a fact of which I am incredibly thankful. My uncle, on the other hand, spent most of his days with his head over the side and a bucket by his bed. This means that he will have to recuperate for a few days until he can manage to keep down a meal giving me more time to search London. I do not wish ill health upon anyone but I feel unashamedly excited at the prospect of the extra days I shall have to achieve my goal.

I am told to find my guide in a tavern where he is waiting for me. After meandering around the docks for a half hour I admit defeat and ask for directions from a sailor. He looks me up and down, a smirk on his face as he takes in my finery and digests my American accent. I toss him a coin, I don't know the exact amount in English money, but he smiles more encouragingly and directs me down a street and to the right, a small hidden entrance hidden at the end of the open alleyway. I thank him and step inside, wondering if I ever could have found it on my own. I decide not.

I ask the barman for a tour-guide and he points to a short, squat, balding man staring at a tankard of ale and swinging his short legs from the chair, a couple of inches from the ground. I go over to him, introducing myself and he swings from the bench, more alert as he strolls from the dimly lit bar.

He asks where I would like to go but without waiting for a reply launches into a list of worthwhile sites to see. He looks up at me expectantly and I voice my interest in the door behind which resides the mythical woman.

He shakes his head but at the appearance of another coin comments that the door is strong and if I really wish to get inside an axe may be necessary. He also lets slip that his brother sells axes at a very good rate and we should go there. I feel I am being tricked but if this is what gets me to the door then I have the money to spare.

We finally arrive at the door and my guide (who I find out is called Thomas) begins to try and talk me out of my decision. I knock on the door and twist the handle. There is no answer and I pick up the axe and take a swing.

Bella's POV

"Oh Sir, please don't! That door has not moved an inch since the dawn of time! You'll anger her, Sir, you'll anger her! You'll doom us all, you will! Meaning no disrespect but don't be such a fool… Sir".

I got up from the floor where I had been slumped against the wall for the past few days and made my way to the source of the commotion. The new arrival from America that everyone had been fawning over had come to visit my door. I stifled a snort, as if he could get in. My doors and windows were a vacuum so no scent or temptation could reach me as a vampire so I would not pounce and destroy my latest achievements. I had never tasted or had the option to fulfil my dietary needs, but I still knew that the presence of a human would snap my careful self-restraint and I would pounce for the jugular of the nearest warm-blooded creature. And then I don't know what would happen…

I was snapped out of my reverie by a business-like rap on the door, then the door handle being twisted and I let out a strangled yelp. Or tried to. My mouth moved but, as there was no air in my lungs, my vocal chords could make no sound; also after my vocal cords being inactive for so long (ever since being changed, in fact), they were not ready for the involuntary noise. I turned from wall to wall, seeking escape from the vacuumed room of my sanctuary. The door handle was once again shook: he was attempting to push the door in no doubt assuming the timbre would be half rotted after so many years. Unfortunately for him the door was reinforced with a metal centre and seals around all of the edges to keep the vacuum. I heard a sigh from the other side of the door and footsteps. I relaxed slightly until the ringing sound of metal on metal reverberated around the room; I felt a change in the room as he bent the door out of shape and the vacuum broke.

"Sir! What are you doing?" the shrill voice of the intruder's companion rose an octave higher as he squeaked on impact.

"Relax! There's no one in there so what can happen?" was the Americans reply, his soft drawl not completely hostile if a little cocky. "But these are pretty strong doors. Wow!" I could have made them thicker I just did not know that a man would come and axe down my door. I pressed myself against the wall.

With a final blow the axe finally made it all the way through the door and I whimpered as I felt a breeze reach me through the crack. Each blow to my door brought a pocket of air my way. I was slightly comforted to know that it only smelt of metal and damp wood… For now.

Finally a chunk had been hacked from my door, falling into my room with a thunderous crack and revealing the faded and peeling condition of the once periwinkle blue paint.

Cold air was buffeting me as I pushed further into the wall, scrunching my eyes in preparation for what was about to happen, I could very well kill this adventurous man.

I heard him step through the square in the door, head ducked down so as not to hit it, and the worried squeaks of the accompaniment. I stopped breathing the fresh air.

I heard a gasp from in front of me and I peeked at the man from under one eyelid.

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**A**


	2. Delayed Reactions and Meeting the Locals

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Chapter 2 - Delayed Reactions and Meeting the Locals

Bella's POV

Oh goodness. I can hear the blood running through his veins, much slower than the short balding man stood next to him which is whirring away in a high pitched vibration of speed. God, how they look so warm even in this limited light. Urgh I must not think like this; I shake my head.

The tall one – I cannot see his face properly, only a silhouette against the light coming through the door and bathing them in a halo of light – at first looked slightly taken aback only to quickly compose his face into one of mild curiosity and cock his head to the side. The fat one takes a step back muttering a string of curses and ancient wards alternately.

The American bobs his head, pardoning himself from intruding quite so rudely.

"It was unacceptable for me to do so and if there is anything that I can do for you to try and show how sorry I am, please, do not hesitate to ask." I am well aware that I have not much air in my lungs with which I can speak, and although I dearly wish to reply in my sarcastic voice that a new door would be nice, I must not use speech wherever possible and content myself with a sweep of the hand towards the splinters littering the floor. He nods, assuring me it shall be replaced to the finest standards.

He bows his head again, for once seeming slightly unsure of himself, and departs, his short friend giving me quick, furtive glances as he jumps through the door. Only when I am sure that they are gone do I let out a little of the air from my lungs and relax, walking forward slightly. I look back to the wall and see a life-size copy of me crushed into the plaster. I shall have to get that fixed…

Edward's POV

I have finally broken through the door. The wood really looked quite old and I thought it would be easy to kick through, but once I had put the axe to it, I heard that there were reinforcements inside. I began to wonder whether it was right to barge in, I seriously doubted that there was anyone in there but for the need of the extravagance of the door I felt that there must be something important residing in the confines of this room. My tour-guide kept harping on at me to stop and explained the myths surrounding the residence of this apartment, but I was too wrapped up in my own ponderings to take any notice and after a quick reassurance to him I had given up and went back to explaining to myself the reasons for this being acceptable.

I did not want to admit to cold feet but I began to realise quite how unsympathetic I was being to these people. The one thing they truly believed in, even feared possibly, and I was about to either remove the plausibility of that lone belief by proving she didn't exist or just terrorise anyone in there.

The gentleman in me wants no one to be in there, so my rash actions with an axe will not have to be explained to the owner of the door; although the rest of me wishes for there to be someone in there. I have, as of yet, no idea why I wish such a thing but I am sure all shall become apparent.

I duck my head as I slip through the door; a large chunk hacked out of the framework. The metal looks to be about an inch thick! I suppress a whistle of astonishment at the expense.

I look up as I hear something, I can't be sure but it sounded like a strangled whisper. Once my head rises up, I can see a dark outline on the wall, the edges are smudged and there is no definite outline, but it is slim and petite. As my companion clears the doorway the light streams in, landing a few inches in front of the shadow's feet. Shock crosses my face as I see a pale head above the clothing, hands pressed flat against the wall. It is impossible but it looks as if the person is slotted into the wall. I quickly compose myself and drop my head to the side as I hear oaths and protections stream in an urgent whisper from behind me. I look and see, undoubtedly, a woman. Hair cascades to her waist in luscious curls; I can see no other detail other than the traditional attire of women of the town of a long, floor-length dress has been discarded and replaced with… skin-tight trousers? I know I should be appalled and disapproving of her state but instead I find myself intrigued as to where she found such clothing that adds to her mysteriousness.

I see wide eyes sparkling from a small, oval-shaped face; I squint, trying to decipher more detail: it looks as though she has jet-black eyes, not just black irises, but black clouding her whole eye. I put it down to the light.

I suddenly realise how rude I must appear and automatically dip my head in respect. I would bow more deeply if it weren't for the interest I had in her. I dared not look away from her for too long else she disappeared. I apologise as politely and quickly as I can, adding a question in the hope of hearing her speak with a response. I am disappointed at this young woman stumping my cunning plan by merely indicating the mess that I have caused with a limp hand. I agree, reassuring her, trying to make sure she understands I am a friend and sincerely apologise for my actions. I don't know if I managed it. I lower my head again and feel loathe to leave her alone in this dank room on her own. I turn to the door, back at her and then to the door once more. She watches every move I make with those unnerving eyes of hers and I find myself walking to the door without ever remembering making the conscious decision to do so, so wrapped up in my thoughts as I was. I step outside, take a deep breath, ignore the axe outside and make my way home, the laboured breathing of my guide being drowned out by the crowds of London, oblivious to the happenings of the past half hour.

Bella's POV

I have become used to no scent, not much light and muffled sound from the street outside. These new noises, scents and sights are overwhelming and I find myself reasoning to go outside. I can now hear very acutely the conversations of people outside, oblivious to my inner-turmoil. The more 'me' side of myself wants to go out; to socialise; to support my fellow townsfolk whereas the vampire inside of me yearns to go and drink them. The thought of it repulses me yet I find myself imagining enticing a helpless pick-pocket into my room. No one shall miss it and it means nothing to nobody.

Except me.

I feel for everything out there with a heartbeat… I made it.

I know that if I went outside the vampire would win, although I fear that I shall not even be able to contain the demon in this cell of a room. It has been breached and I cannot now seal myself back up. I have tasted a slight hint of freedom. I have encountered a human and I am not wholly averse to the situation.

I find my encounter arousing the hunting instincts that came with vampire-hood. They are unfamiliar and incredibly strong. My self control is immense and I find myself biting back the taste of venom in my mouth and trying my best to ignore the ache in my throat. My body burns with thirst with every movement. I find myself frozen; I have automatically turned off all signals to my muscles. I am a statue and I shall not stir until I have full control.

I wait until it is dark and the streets have calmed down and my body is in its normal state of controlled starvation. My delayed reactions to meeting a human have passed and I find myself quite exhausted (although I cannot sleep) from the experience. I cannot fight myself any longer and I allow myself to stroll outside. I ascend the stone steps from my basement room and look around. Although it is dark I can clearly see the street and I can hear the rowdy drunks of a tavern being kicked out by the landlord. I stroll in the middle of the street keeping my distance from the houses, not going near any. The smells of the street are strong, very strong, unimaginably strong; but none appeal to the predator inside of me.

I continue on my way, remembering each house that I have built and laughing at the absurdity of the extensions of the humans. I built it as perfectly as possible, spread out but accessible and they have built layers, one upon the other so they almost meet in the middle. I breathe in deeply. I hear the swish of clothes and freeze. Ahead of me is a silhouette, a tall silhouette in a reasonable well-off looking cloak. I tentatively take a step forward, staring intently. I look at the profile carefully and my perfect night vision tells me it is the American man. I gasp, I thought inaudibly, but he still looks up at me. I see him squint and then walk towards me. I back away. I have already stopped breathing.

Edward's POV

I arrive home to a silent house, of course there are the servants but they will not speak to me but look at their feet mumbling agreements of "yes-sir" and "no-sir". I walk up to my room and sit at my desk, looking at a piece of yellow parchment wondering whether it is worth writing a letter home. Decide that I have nothing better to do and dip my quill into the ink. I begin with dear father and find that I shall have to obtain a new quill as this one is now blunt from use and cannot be sharpened any further for fear of the feathers smudging the ink. I lay down my pen and place thumb and forefinger against my scrunched up eyes.

Instead of events that I can place in my letter I find only a slight figure clad in tight, black clothes. I sit back in my chair abruptly. I should not dwell upon this woman. Although she looked more like a child, but that is impossible - no one has seen a single being pass in or out of those doors for… ever. But no matter how I think of other things - or try to - I cannot get the events of today to stop playing around the inside of my eyes.

I go downstairs to the main library with the intention of getting lost within someone else's adventures only to throw the book down upon the couch in frustration at each character being portrayed by a faceless figure resembling her.

I sit at the piano and place my fingers upon the keys, staring at the small black keys as they grow curves. I cry out in annoyance. I am so restless and for what? One girl who said not one word to me! I grab my coat and stalk out of the house to the nearest tavern. It is not one of the nearest to the coast and therefore not so busy and is in decent condition meaning that the air is not suffocated with smoke and most windows are intact. I walk in the door to have a glass of ale thrust into my hand as a small mouse-like man is thrown out of the window by two men adorned in tattoos. They follow out of the door, giving me a not unfriendly smile on their way out. Once I am sure they cannot see me I shake my head in wonderment and disbelief.

I smell the ale to find it satisfactory and sit at a table in the corner to drink in peace.

Not five minutes later I am awoken from my trance-like state by the two giants and their small companion, grinning sheepishly with a gummy grimace.

"Introductions" one man with a red-breasted robin peeking through his shirt begins. "I'm Robin. That's Red" he points to a man with a big, blotchy red mark upon his jaw and leading down his neck and into his clothing, "and this here's Squeaker!" he hits the small man on the back with such force that Squeaker is slammed into his beer-mug and consequentially starts choking. "You're the American" concludes Robin with a jab of his finger across the table in my direction. I can do nothing but nod. Robin lets out a big hearty laugh and reaches for my drink, throwing it over his shoulder and signalling for the barman. "You don't want to drink that stuff: it's Squeakers. We water it down; he can't have the proper stuff." I try to assure him that it's fine but am silenced with a large mug of strong smelling, thick liquid. Robin and Red grab their mugs and hold them up looking at me expectantly. I quickly raise my own glass to theirs with a chorus of "Cheers!" from all. Although I do not drink much, I decide to have at least one, so as not to seem rude.

My taste buds are screaming at me as another tumbler of the drink slips down my throat, burning as I shudder to a new wave of happiness. I have lost count of how much drink I have had and am swinging my beaker around in front of me, one arm wrapped around Robin's shoulders as I sway on the tabletop singing many songs along with Robin and Red. I sit down at the end of the song, wondering if this I what drunkenness is. I try to recall what has been said and remember one conversation:

I had inquired as to why they were called what they were, leaving out what unusual names they possessed as I had already witnessed some of their ways of dealing with their anger.

"Well, I used to carry round a red blanket with me everywhere and climb in the trees over there. In winter they're full of robins and I had the knack of getting them to land on me. They used to call me the robin charmer! Then just Robin. I got this tattoo when I was eight as well so that added to 'Robin'." That was Robin's response. I then questioned Red. He merely pointed at his red mark. Robin interjected, on Red's behalf, that it was a birthmark, "he's a bit touchy about it so best to just leave it at that."

Squeaker then exclaimed without prompting that his namesake was his high-pitched squeak of a voice and also his face.

Somehow the conversation progressed onto that they were all living on nicknames purely that they couldn't really ask their parents as they abandoned them on the doorsteps of a doctor. Red believed it was his mark that was the cause and Squeaker his ugliness. Robin refused to talk any further and, even in my addled state, I could tell this was a subject not to push.

I couldn't really remember anything apart from that and felt tired from trying. I recalled a lot of noise, much merriment and singing and drinking and then I decided to sleep. I woke up from the barman pushing me with all of his strength and a pitcher of water being poured on my face. Wiping my eyes I saw Robin, his eyes creased by an ear-to-ear grin: "someone can't hold their drink!" boomed a loud voice. I groaned and rolled off the table. I stood up, steadying myself on the stools. I carefully let go and the floor came up to meet me in a sickening lurch. I heard the barman whispering urgently, I picked up snippets: "looking sick" and "get him out" and "I aint cleaning that up". I was picked up in two muscled arms and taken out into the cold. I was placed on my feet and a hand grabbed the back of my head forcing it downwards. I couldn't breathe; I panicked and opened my mouth to scream replacing the little air in my mouth with water, cold and un-oxygenated. I fought back and suddenly I could breathe again with a laughing Robin next to me. I scowled at him.

"What the hell?"

"Did it work, though?" was Robins reply.

"Did what work?"

"Do you feel steadier on your feet?" he answered infuriatingly calmly.

I hadn't realised but I had indeed been advancing upon Robin and my head wasn't spinning anymore. I grudgingly nodded my head as Robin chuckled beside me.

We walked down the road and I finally noticed how big he was. He was huge, tall and muscled. Still bristling with indignation, I carried on observing in silence. He had short, dark, curly hair and a big jovial face with an easy grin. He was a giant but a gentle one to friends which I now believed I was. I grinned.

We carried on in silence until he signalled that we had reached his road. I bid him goodnight and carried on my own way home. I reached home within a matter of minutes and started undoing the bolt. I thought I heard something and looked up to see the girl.

To check it wasn't my imagination I took a step forward to help focus. She walked away into the shadows and I squinted after her. This was no imaginary woman…

This was her.

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**A**


	3. a Haphazard Acquaintance

**Disclaimer: A Big Surprise! I do not own Twilight**

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Chapter 3 - A Haphazard Acquaintance

Bella's POV

Oh god, I walk away, not trusting myself to run, I can't control going over into vampire speed and that would only make him more curious. Oh, what have I got myself into? I hear speeding footsteps and move into a quick walk, my shoes clicking on the cobbles, deafeningly loud to my ears as I slip into and alley. Dead end.

Oh crap.

I turn round slowly at the silence of his footsteps stopping and look into the face of…

I gasp. Big mistake.

Edward's POV

I follow her as she turns and walks away. She slips into an alley and I follow, stopping at the mouth as I know it to be a dead end. She turns slowly to face me, her eyes grow wide and she gasps.

After that… she seems to disappear only to reappear at my neck, her small mouth opened and positioned near the crease where my neck meets my shoulder. I can't feel her breath. I freeze, not daring to move as her small body is racked with violent convulsions. She appears to gain some control as her eyes dart everywhere and her head pulls away infinitesimally. I smoothly take a step back, watching her wearily. I feel no fear, just a compulsion to stay and make sure she is alright, she looks so lost and unsure. I have no idea what could be wrong with her but she obviously needs someone and I am adamant that that someone will be me.

As she stands there, reasoning with herself within the confines of her mind I assume, I look at her. She is tiny, only a few inches taller than 5 feet I would think. She is perfectly proportioned and so very fair. Her skin seems to glow almost stark white from the limited light reaching her, contrasting perfectly with the mahogany waves that frame her face and cascade to her waist. Her eyes – still completely black I notice – stand out perfectly. Although it is unnatural, I pay no heed to them, the light is still gloomy.

Her clothes are black and made out of materials I have never seen before. They fit perfectly to her shapely body. She wears a button less shirt in a stretchy material and her trousers also seem to stretch to fit her. It is beautiful and I feel ashamed to have seen anyone this way. She should be mortified at being seen without the customary dress of fifteen layers (yes I am exaggerating) reaching to the ground. Her feet are bare. They must be frozen on these cobbles…

Suddenly she has disappeared and I hear the strangled bark of a dog.

Bella's POV

I catch myself just in time; I shut down all muscles but that of my jaw. I freeze it; cramp it into obedience and stay there, collecting my scattered thoughts. My mouth is filled with venom, the repulsive burning of it coating my tongue. I focus on that awful taste to block out his sweet scent, refusing to acknowledge the thirst screaming through me demanding the blood of this boy in front of me. My eyes look at each option, scenes playing out in my minds eye against the bricks surrounding me, how easy it would be to just reach out. No one would see. But what about his family? His death could be easily arranged. No one knows me so they couldn't accuse me. But who would they pin the blame on? The consequences for that innocent person?

As I continue to argue with myself, my thoughts getting more and more graphic and my defences getting more and more painful I do not notice him take a step back but continue with the inner turmoil putting off his imminent death.

I spot a dog trotting down the road and instinct takes over.

Edward's POV

I follow the noise, shock plain on my face as I pull out of the alley. I look to my right and see the hind legs of the dog fall limply to the ground. The rest disappears behind a black figure, hunched over. The sounds of a work-house boy finishing off a bowl of soup is heard from what I can only assume is her. What she is doing to the dog I can only imagine, but I believe it to be dead.

She turns round to face me and her shoulders sag as her head droops in shame. The palms of her hands go to meet her eyes as she lets out a loud sob. I peek over at the dog and find it to be quite hollow; there is no blood in it whatsoever. I realise quite unwillingly that it must be her who has rid this animal of life but I cannot seem to place a name to the emotions I am feeling. I appear to be quite numb at the moment. All I know is that she is crying and I yearn to comfort her.

"Don't cry" I take a step forward as her beautifully abnormal eyes look up to meet mine. I am lost in the depth of the wisdom held there. There are no tears in her eyes as she peers at me. She acts with small, slow, cautious movements, testing herself, it would seem as much as trying not to scare me. As absurd as it sounds I don't believe her to be any normal person. It is stranger still but it would surprise me if she were merely human. She radiates beauty and I find myself inching forward. She realises at about the same moment and brings her knees to her chest, enveloping her arms around herself in protection. I hear her breath catch in her throat and I stop. Instead I crouch down to her level and hold my hands up, palm facing her trying to relay I hold no threat. She lifts her head up and smiles meekly. She looks like a child like this.

"As if you could hurt me – Ha!" she exclaims. I straighten my neck and widen my eyes at her unexpected sarcasm. She clamps her hands over her mouth, eyes wide in shocked apology. I grin. She lowers her hands and her eyes. I stand up and proffer my hand to help her up. She gingerly reaches out and cups her hand around mine, looking up at me quickly as if afraid she's hurt me. On the contrary, I barely realised she was touching me. Her hand was ice cold, but I found I didn't mind, and her skin so smooth. She put no pressure on me as she hoisted herself up and we started walking. I looked behind at the dog; she noticed and hung her head. I reached for her chin to tilt her face towards me but she once again disappeared only to show on the other side of the road.

"I'm sorry. That was rude of me. May I be forgiven" I apologised, I had been too forward. I watched as she tentatively stepped towards me. I may have imagined it, but I believe she whispered under her breath:

"If only that were the problem…"

I looked at her, eyebrows raised but she carried on looking at our hands, I had instinctively wrapped my big, warm hand around her petite porcelain one. She was concentrating hard but this felt right and I didn't want to let go.

She stood for a while, looking at our hands, I was holding on tight and I could feel my pulse against her marble skin. Eventually she started walking. I let her lead our way into the woods and stop in a clearing. She sat down on a tree stump and I did the same. We faced each other in the dark for what seemed like hours until the sun illuminated the clouds it was hiding behind and I could see a little better in the grim light.

Bella's POV

The dog tasted… unlike anything I had ever tasted before. I was too thirsty to taste it properly but it had a bitter-sweet aftertaste. I was too ashamed at myself to enjoy it.

Thankfully it eased the pain in my stomach by a huge amount for something so small and I found the man offering me his hand quite easy to cope with. I had always been good at controlling myself be it my emotions or actions and it was paying off.

Admittedly holding his hand strained my control with my imagination gallivanting off to scenarios containing his death without my permission as his pulse drummed through me. I regained my rigid control and set off walking, this man in tow.

Once in the woods I sat and looked at him. He looked familiar, like someone out of a dream. He looked like him… I just couldn't place his face. He had bronze hair, contrasting perfectly with his sparkling green eyes. He was tall and lanky, I imagined him to be no more or less than seventeen years of age. I scrutinised every aspect of him from his messy hair which had a hand run through it every few minutes to his well-off clothing until the birds came out and the sun made an appearance. I was glad of another cloudy day otherwise how I would get home was a mystery to me.

"I'm Bella. Any idea what I am?" I blurted out, causing him to jump. I hadn't meant to say it, but I did not regret my sudden question.

Edward's POV

"I do have one theory." I conceded, "but you'll think I'm crazy… unless it's true" I mused.

"Go on then" she prompted, picking at her bitten fingernails, feigning nonchalance.

"Well - as far as I know - only one thing drinks blood" I began , thinking of the dog. She stopped picking at her fingernails and looked into the distance.

"And what's that?" she breathed.

"Vampires?" I replied. She looked at me then and I knew it was true. That's what she was. But I thought they snuck up in the middle of the night and murdered people in night clothes showing no remorse. A far cry from what I had seen. I voiced my query.

"Ha! Myths and legends! Other vampires may do such things. But not me." She replied all in one breath. I asked her why she did that, try to breath as little as possible.

She gouged a chunk of a tree behind her out and squashed it flat between her small palms. She produced… a pen? from her pocket and within 10 seconds had handed me the squashed bark, covered in a small, elegant script much plainer than any writing I had seen before. There were no lavish curls on each letter, just a simpler, straight forward version. It read:

_Before I became like this I remember vaguely other vampires. They were 'vegetarians' drinking only animal blood that's the only influence of vampires I have ever had and so that is how I choose to live my life. I don't want to be a murderer. But that doesn't mean it's easy. Every breath brings a whiff of human my way and it's all I can do not to attack right then and there. I have no need to breathe and don't do so unless necessary or I forget to stop. It's a strange concept. Understand?_

"It makes sense…" I agreed. And it did.

"Why aren't you running and screaming? I brought you up to fear vampires." She rushed out in a single breath. I had to concentrate to catch it all.

"You brought me up? What? Oh and no, I'm not running. I don't know why. I'll have to think on it." She signalled for the pen and panel.

_Maybe it's because you don't know what I'm capable of… and yes. I egged on evolution. Wait a few years and science will tell you what that's about. I shaped your hopes, aspirations and fears so you are exactly the same as what I remember from when I was human. I am older than you can even imagine. Aren't you tired?_

"Nope" I yawned. That got a smile out of her. She tested how she was with breathing and she shook her head.

"Sorry" she said as she ran into the trees. I heard a distant crack and the sounds of what I now knew to be her sucking the blood of the unfortunate animal. I wondered what animal it was. She came back and I inquired:

"Do animals taste similar raw as they do cooked?" she thought on it then took a breath, smiled and continued:

"Not as a vampire, it would just taste like dirt, but compared from before and after… I'm not sure. I would assume so." She sat down again looking calmer than I had ever seen her and closed her eyes. I yawned again. She smiled and opened her eyes as she raised her head from the tree trunk on which she was resting. Her eyes sparkled as she took in my somewhat ruffled appearance, no longer completely black but now enclosed with white giving a less creepy appearance than before. She stood up so gracefully and fit in perfectly with the dim clearing in which we were. I smiled in awe as she gingerly raised me from the floor, setting me on my feet and wiping my shoulder in a motherly fashion. She was strong. I commented on it and she told me about the speed, sight, hearing strength and some of the extras that came with being a vampire. Although now I was fully aware of what she was capable of (she showed me in the clearing, the trees didn't stand a chance) I couldn't muster up the fear I was sure should come from her presence.

In my tired and probably still slightly drunk state stumbled on the way home, I was so tired. She picked me up, and placed me on her back, telling me to hold on tight, that she wasn't used to the gentle touch that she had to use around us fragile people. She then ran through the streets to my house. When asked how she knew where it was, she was speechless: she just knew.

Next I know she is placing me under the downy cover although quite how we arrived in my room is beyond me. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head touched the pillow, imagining the smile upon her face as she left through the window.

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**Hope you liked!**

**A**


	4. Costumes and Reminiscences

**Hard as it is to believe, I do not own Twilight**

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Chapter 4 – Costumes and Reminiscences

Bella's POV

I lean against the brickwork, pressing my fingers to my eyelids and taking a big breath. I can smell the tavern that must be nearby and concentrate on the smell until the sweet scent of warm blood reaches my nostrils. The venom in my mouth burns but I have dealt with hunger much worse than this and I manage to tune it out.

I meander aimlessly through the streets, not noticing the crowd engulfing me in a babble of noise. I didn't notice the jostling of other people, did not even notice them bang into me and fling themselves back as I did not ease their journey to their destination. I must have received hundreds of startled looks as I ambled through the streets, ignoring all else but focusing only on my thoughts. His eyes… were they like that? Human memories fade fast but he had been engraved into my skull and an outline of him, no matter how faint, was still etched onto my skull. I stopped as I reached the front of my house, the remnants of my shattered door still at the bottom of the stairs leading into the dark room of my sanctuary. A wave of emotion swept through me, causing non-existent tears to appear in my eyes as I bit on my lip to hold in the sob ready to escape. It wasn't that I was sad as such, I just felt worthless. For too many years I hadn't had any contact with anyone and when I finally saw someone I nearly ate him. I smile at how stupid it sounds until I realise the seriousness of my predicament. I cannot socialise with anyone and the loneliness may kill me.

I have managed to stay alive by imagining the day when I can finally have someone to share eternity with, have a life with of a sort. But how is that possible when I can't look at someone capable of such feelings without imagining their death, by my doing no less. Animals will suffice at this point in time, but that is because I have eaten nothing for more years than I can imagine and the sudden explosion of meals is overbearing and my system is happy with only a small amount to keep it satisfied. But I know that it will begin to want more and more and I don't want to jump in at the deep end not knowing if I can take it or not. I cannot risk lives.

Oh, what the hell am I meant to do? I shove my hands in my pockets reflexively in a moment of stress, plunging my hands straight through ancient stitches. Oh. Well isn't that just fabulous. Fan-bloody-tastic. Well, these clothes are rather modern. Dark jeans and a cotton top are hardly fitting-in materials. I shall have to get a dress made. That means interacting with someone… Crap. I am not up to this.

My shoulders slump as I look dejectedly at the gaping hole into the black pit of my room. You know what? Sod it. I _will_ make this work. I'm off to get a dress.

OC's POV

I look up from cutting the material as the bell over the door sighs its musical tune and feel my jaw drop at what is standing in front of me: a young girl with the loveliest curls I have ever seen and the face of an angel. Awe raises through me but as I take in her attire, my jaw snaps in disgust. She is wearing next to nothing. _Trousers _no less. And that top. I repress a shudder. I look at myself to check my dress reaches the floor and that the collar reaches my jawbone. As she walks stiffly forward, her small hands clenching and unclenching and with a wary look upon her face, eyeing me as if I held something explosive I notice her exquisite porcelain skin shine from the murky light forcing its way through the window grime. It lights her high jawbones and the fullness of her ruby lips. I lick my own lips, my tongue feeling the roughness of them, so dry and cracked from the many sleepless nights I have been enduring in this cold weather with nothing but a thin blanket.

Her eyes dart around the room. They seem to be a burnt gold. She stands on the other side of the counter; afraid it would seem to come any closer to me. Her eyes take in the whole of the dimly lit interior, the racks of material hanging behind me, the tallow candles with the stands covered in yesterdays wax. My mistress comes in. Her friendly smile switches from smarmy to fixed as she takes in the customer and she tilts her head to the side looking at me with exasperated eyes as if it was my fault she had chosen this dressmaker's to come to. I wondered why she was here; her looks said lady but her clothes said workhouse. She must know it requires money to gain proper clothing and that we don't deal with time wasters. But her face is so welcoming.

The customer bows her silken head and enquires as to the price of a more suitable garment with a breathy tone. The fat figure to my left – my mistress – ruffles up her own dress and makes her way to the customer who takes a hasty step away (possibly too quickly that I barely noticed the step between being in front of me to slightly to the right) and freezes, eyes closed in a pained expression. My mistress, the coarse grey hair piled on top of her head quivering with either shock or indignation takes a step back herself. She also pulls down her own hem and readjusts the sleeves of her violet striped gown. She looks at the visitor with a look of superiority, trying to remind her that it is she who is the common muck that needs our services.

I feel for her, standing there rigid as anything, a look of pain on her face. I don't go to her for fear of upsetting her. After what seems like eternity, she opens her eyes and grins sheepishly at me. At dip my head and smile shyly back before busying myself with the velvet stencil in front of me.

"I need a dress", her voice is beautiful. I jump in before my mistress can reply with whatever nasty remark her quick mind has come up with:

"Of course", I take a tentative step toward her and I must have imagined the nod in reply. I reach her and point towards the wall of material where she just stares. Probably overwhelmed by the choice, poor thing. I busy myself, dragging my finger across the rows of colours until I reach a soft material, like clouds under my fingertips. I tug at the edges, trying to dislodge it from the bottom of the pile without success. I sigh, ready for another match but see her lifting it out easily, one arm holding the other material up so it slides out smoothly and quickly. She seems to snap out of her reverie and quickly looks toward me, startled and apologetic. I close my mouth, once again hanging open and rearrange the fabric on the counter. It is a burnt, pale purple, almost grey, and matches her complexion. It is simple but elegant and, I believe, will suit her perfectly.

She strokes the fabric carefully and gives me a small smile. I smile back reassuringly. She looks so fragile and I feel the need to be careful around her less she snap and run away like some frightened deer.

"So… what happens now?" I look up to meet her penetrating gaze, her golden eyes boring into mine. "Do you need to take measurements or something?" I pull myself back from the endless depth of those eyes to straighten my skirt and reach for the tape measure in answer. My mistress huffs out of the room as the girl in front of me obeys my every command with the stiffness of the statue in the square outside.

She asks for sleeves and as my hand measures her arm I feel her feathery skin, freezing cold and so silky yet so tough. She moves her arm away from my hand and looks at me guardedly. I get the feeling she is hiding something, something she is… ashamed of?

I wipe my hands on the skirt of my dress and thank her for her custom and she disappears. It is known that this dressmaker will, if they have the material, make the dress by the end of the week. I get to work straight away, marking the measurements with tailors chalk. I finish and straighten my back, stretching back whilst leaning my arms on the small of my back, closing my eyes as my back breaks the slouched mould of the past hour.

I look up at the ceiling and look at the shadows cast by the candle, flickering. I stare, seeing different shapes from rabbits' ears to elephants' trunks; a wooden beam creaks and I jump just as the vision of a monster looms from the shadows, jaw open wide, teeth pointed and dripping saliva.

My heart just about stops as a slim figure steps from the shadows.

I open my mouth to scream, my eyes darting around the room, looking for a weapon, an exit, anything. A delicate block of ice is placed over my mouth with exaggerated care as I look into the dark eyes of today's customer. I blink in bewilderment as realisation dawns that she will not harm me and I step back.

"Miss! It's well past closing time!" It's all I can think of to say and I feel a fool for it.

"I forgot to ask: when will it be ready?" Her reply sets suspicion in my mind. This is the best dressmakers in the country - the south anyway… She must have another reason. I look at her with raised eyebrows. It is not as respectful an attitude as I usually portray to customers but it is late and she is not telling anyone anything. Small conversation is polite in such circumstances yet there she stands, mute. Anger bubbles to the surface; it is irrational but I am tired and my back throbs.

"It will be ready by tomorrow evening", I don't know what makes me say it. Oh… damnation. And I can't go back on this promise: it is bad business. Great. Her perfectly sculpted features look surprised and I find myself smug at the final crack showing in the shield around her. "I do apologise, miss, if I seem rude, but may I enquire as to your name?"

"Not rude at all: Bella Swan. What is your name?"

Bella's POV

I am giddy with enthusiasm, interaction with people for more than five minutes without wanting to eat them! I have watched her all day just to get used to people and then the candle flickers my way and she notices me, but I am fine with such an occurrence. Maybe it's fate.

"Oh I do beg your pardon, I missed your second name", damn it, she has been talking all this while. Crap.

"Alice. I don't know my second name: I was abandoned at birth and taken on as an apprentice here. People just call me Alice".

Recognition sparks as I realise I have looked down to this height before, seen that pixie-like face before. It's her.

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**Darn human memories, the tricksy little things springing things up on you like that**

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	5. Encounters

**I HAVE THE TWILIGHT SOUNDTRACK!!! I love the New Moon song and the Spotlight song (YeY Mute MAath!) and I love all of them! Opinion? REVIEW**

**But I do not own Twilight. That is Stephenie Meyers.**

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Chapter 5

Encounters

Bella's POV

My breathing becomes deeper and faster as numerous recollections pass in front of my glazed over eyes. I look at her bemused face watching me through the haze of the flickering candle. I tell her I'll drop by for the dress in the afternoon and promptly depart.

I decide to go for a bite to eat – I shake my head in exasperation at the unintended pun – and reason that I have nothing better to do and should probably not overdo it and test myself just yet if I want to slip into London's social circle. My stomach is churning already and I feel my muscles bunching at the thought of the chase. I am still – no matter how hard I try – a predator and animals are my prey. I find consolation in a saying I remember, heard from somewhere that helps me justify the choice: "had he not eaten venison in his former life?" I recalled the words in a voice, velvety smooth and reassuring. I know not whose lips those words fell from but they make this situation a little more bearable.

I sneak silently from the deserted street and speed up, running for the forest. Once there I catch sight of only a bird, too high for me to reach easily and too small to be worth the effort. I turn my head to the heart of the forest and run. This is where I am in my prime, I run onward, gliding across the uneven ground so fast that if it weren't for my heightened eyesight the world I see would be just a green blur.

A weak scent, strangely appealing, crosses my path and I change my direction, heading straight for it. The smell becomes richer in a sharp burst as I run through a huge clearing, messily swept free of trees, the surrounding bushes covered in dead twigs and blood. I go up to the nearest leaf, dripping in the intoxicating sticky liquid. I inhale deeply: swan. My head whips round as the snap of a twig echoes around the empty clearing and my eyes narrow as I spot movement on the far side of the clearing, buried in trees. I move to the shadows, circling round to the waving leaves, quieter than if I was there.

I peek over the roots of the massive oak tree behind which I am hiding and spot the shiny metal of the shotgun, pointing at the swan on the ground, quivering in pain. Two wounds are evident, dripping blood across its ivory feathers in a disturbingly appetising way, from its plump torso and a hole through the base of its wing where it's joined to the body. The man aims and with a resounding crack the swan is no more.

I gasp audibly and curse as the man looks up. I shrink behind the tree root, hands lightly placed on the ancient bark in front of me, focusing on the pearlescent fingernails in front of me, each as perfectly rounded as the next. I look up to see the rifle slung across the wide shoulder of a wide man dressed in hunting gear, in his hand the plump frame of the swan swinging from its limp neck tightly held in the fat mans hand, wings and feet grazing the ground.

I watch until it's out of site until a fox sniffs at the pool of blood. It must have followed it. I realise that my throat has been burning since the clearing and I am so tense. Venom is thick in my mouth. Instinct takes over and I leap.

Alice's POV

This cannot become a habit, going to sleep in the very early hours of the morning only to wake up in the early hours of the morning from a lumpy mattress filled with bugs and two threadbare blankets, is not good for anyone. But I need to finish this dress. I rub at my sore eyes with the back of my hand nearly poking my eye out with the gleaming pins held between thumb and forefinger. I am too tired to do anything but blink in mild surprise. No need to be melodramatic, my eye is still intact, is it not?

With a weary sigh I set to work pinning the pieces before getting my mistress from her own bed to help with the sewing. I thank the inventors of the thimble for protecting my thumb from my own clumsiness as I weave the metal through the thick fabric. It is barely dawn yet; I shall get it done in time.

I jump as two warm arms wrap around my waist from behind and I feel soft lips at the side of my neck. I know it to be Jasper and look around the room to check that no one has noticed this rebellious behaviour as I push my tangled hair from my eyes. I frown that I have not yet had time to coil my hair in its usual bun. It is too messy for Jasper to see. What must he think of me? I turn in his arms, placing my hands on his broad chest, calming my burning fingertips on the soft fabric before looking up.

My eyes are level with his Adams apple and I stretch on my tiptoes to reach his lips. I just can't reach and with a soft chuckle he lifts me onto the counter. I gasp from the sudden movement and once again check the room in fear that we'll be seen; I'll lose everything…

My worries ease as his lips meet mine in a quick kiss. My hands slide from his chest to the back of his neck as he pulls away and places his forehead upon mine. His ash-blond hair tickles my cheeks and I can feel his breath on my lips, each sending a calming wave through my entire frame. I sit there until the thimble, fallen from my finger, hits the floor with a musical chime and jerks me back to my senses.

We both lean back, heaving a sigh of contentment. His eyes sparkle in the morning light leaking through the grimy windows and he presses his silken lips to my cracked ones in farewell before hastening through the door with a spring in his step.

I smile manically as I get back to my work and within the hour have finished tacking the dress in place. It is an elegant style, respectable and simple and the material flows like liquid through my fingers.

I put the pot on the stove and prepare my mistresses mug of herbs, waiting for the boiling water. I rest my head on my hands as the clock on the mantelpiece over the fire – just for show and never used – ticks away the seconds. I turn to thinking about the dress and what that beautifully strange woman will look in it. In my mind, I give her a matching hat perched coyly atop her hair, curled and piled elegantly on her head, loose tendrils framing her porcelain face. The dress fits as perfectly as the new kid-gloves warming her long, thin, icy-cold fingers. I wonder what she'd look like in a ball gown: what colour would suit her? Shape? I begin to map out the measurements in my head only to snap back to the here and now by the unpleasantly shrill whistle of the boiling kettle. I quickly pour it into the mug and stir it as I carry it up the stairs to place it on my mistress's bedside table. I take my place at the foot of her bed and cough quietly until she wakes up. She nods before turning to the drink and I make my way downstairs to get the needles and thread out before going up to help with the tight bodice of her dress.

Once ready, my mistress and I begin piecing together the order of sewing, which way would be neatest.

As we work my mistress, more like my mother, chats to me and although she can seem irritable, it is times like these that remind me of how much she means to me and how she has been there for me. She allows me to call her by her first name, but only in private and although to strangers she seems curt and businessman like, I have never met a person so easy to get along with. She smiles warmly at me across the dress between us. I get back to my work but know that she will be still staring at me. I can feel her eyes on me – they always are when she thinks I don't know.

Once, many years ago when I was of only eight years old, her own baby girl died in her crib after a long illness. I don't think she'll ever be the same and she looks to me as she would a daughter. She knows it's not right and in front of others acts like the mean mistress she thinks everyone thinks she should be. She blames herself for not looking after her child better but I know that there was nothing that could have been done. She makes up for it everyday with kindness to me and others close to her, but she fears being seen like that to customers. Although she has suffered the greatest blow dealt to anyone, she is no fool and knows that to carry on her business she cannot be seen as a sentimental push-over.

We carry on, stopping only for a brief snack around midday after completing the skirt and half of the bodice before continuing to stitch it all together. It takes us until early afternoon to finish it and I am just putting the final stitches in place as I hear the bell ring out in the shop entrance, signalling the opening of the door. I wipe my hands of loose threads on my dress as I walk into the shop to see the sheepish-looking angel in front of me.

Bella's POV

I ran up to York, the capital of the North and the woods there where I feasted upon the plumpest deer ever seen. I saw a swan, frolicking in the water and watched in the reeds until I lost the battle of willpower and drank the most glorious taste ever heard of. Nothing tasted as good as the warm liquid sliding down my throat. I buried every carcass and entered the city by mid-morning.

I forgot about my clothing, how revealing it is considered these days and I slipped into an alley, hoping to scale a wall and exit the city to retreat to London. Instead I was followed by three drunks, hoping to corner me no doubt. I was too energetic from the feast I had just encountered and I barely heard what he was saying until he started advancing on me, reaching out a hand palm up, coaxing me to come to him like some dumb animal. I remember everything clicking into place, every sense of mine heightened beyond anything I had ever experienced and I seemed to see the situation from all angles.

"Come on love", his thick, common accent grates against my ears as I decipher the words behind the slur. "Come here" he continues, beckoning with one finger.

Anger boils up inside me and an irrational fear. I have faced this situation before, but now I am so much stronger; what is there to fear? My eyebrows pull together and I bend my knees, bending forward, arms raised in an attack position, my mouth opening to a snarl. Another growl escapes me as he steps nearer. He reaches out to me, his hands inches away from me. I snap at him, I can feel my teeth lengthen automatically at the prospect of another human. He looks at me and violence jumps forth in a punch to my face. I feel nothing and do not move while he howls. Fury is emanating from him mingled with pain as he and his friends step forth to conquer this pretty little girl by joined forces. I smile inwardly: as if they could ever do anything to me. The wall is behind me, I can feel the rough stone through my cotton T-shirt as his friends take either side and he comes at me from in front. They charge at the same time, arms outstretched in a drunken lope. I fall to my knees and his two minions smash into each other over me. They growl and slump to the floor while the first man stops. I look up to find his face inches from mine, can smell his putrid breath and cringe from the grin spreading across his lips revealing the yellow, brown, rotting teeth of his mouth.

"Gotcha". A wave of stale alcohol washes over me and my heightened senses dull as I stand up and pull back to punch him as he also stands up. My fist spins faster than human eyes can follow to connect with a cracking crunch of bone as he flies back from the force. He is bleeding on the floor.

I have to get out of here, I can already feel the venom, thick and sickly inside my mouth, coating my throat. I steal his money pouch (I need to pay Alice somehow) and set of for London, fighting the urge to feed all the way back.

I make it back to London by mid-afternoon and head to the dress-makers.

Alice's POV

She stands there as glorious as ever, one hand rubbing up and down her other arm feverishly. Her eyes are bright, a deep gold and a loose smile plays about her lips.

My mistress comes into the room accompanied by the dress which she lays on the counter with a flourish. She picks up the knife to cut off the last piece of string. I don't know what happened, how it happened but somehow my dear mistress cut her finger on the knife, blood seeping from the cut as she let out a cry of pain. My eyes turned to Miss Swan who looked repulsed, like she was going to be sick and then she wasn't there. I turned to my mistress to ask where she'd gone to find Miss Swan eyes closed, my mistresses cut finger at her lips and a look of bliss on her features. My mouth opened in disgust before my mistress uttered a scream of pure agony. Miss Swan's eyes snapped open and she pulled her head back, blood at the corner of her mouth. My eyes open in shock as I see the clean wound.

And the tooth marks on my mistress's finger.

"_Esme_!" I shriek in fear at what is happening.

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**A**


	6. a Shocking Addition

**Remember where e left off? Good**

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**Disclaimer: the same as most peoples. I am just an obsessed fan. What can you do?**

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Chapter VI – A shocking Addition

Bella's POV

I 'wake up' to hear Alice screeching herself hoarse, eyes screwed up tight, mouth agape with her small fists pressed to each side of her head, the knuckles white and nearly bursting through her skin. I look around for the source of my friend's terror, my head turning lethargically around the room. I find nothing and feel my eyebrows knit together in confusion as I look down.

I lick my lips and taste the gloriousness that is there, look up to Alice, still screaming and back down. Everything clicks as I see the crescent moon of perforations in front of me, held between my two hands. I spit the venom from my mouth and stand up as my head clears and sight and sound return to me. Alice's screaming becomes even more prominent and I look down to see Esme whimpering unconsciously. Two thoughts race forth: oh holy shit, what have I _done_? and they weren't kidding when they said history comes back around, is there anyone that I _don't_ know in this god-forsaken place?

OK… I know how this works and I know I need to get her somewhere secluded. I daren't bite her again so this is going to take as long as it takes. I'm actually quite surprised I managed to pull away; I thought it was much more addictive than that. Hmmm... Oh crap, stop distracting myself. I see the dress and I quickly change, pick Esme up bridal style and head for the door until I realise the absence of Alice's screams. Her breathing has picked up and she's looking at me but her fists are still glued to her head. All terror seems to have left me and all I see before me is what I must do. I quickly hoist her onto my back, so gently so as not to harm her and leave through the door with a swish of my well-tailored skirts.

I know I must keep to the back alleys as this must be such an unacceptable sight and if we ever want to return here none of us must be recognised. I bow my head so my hair covers both mine and Esme's faces. I can feel Alice's head pressed against my back and her arms around my neck. I pick up the pace to a brisk jog, being as inconspicuous as possible, yet I can still feel eyes on me. I look up briefly to check that I'm not just being paranoid and meet the startled gaze of the crowd around me. Esme releases a shattering screech as her eyes open, reflecting thousands of diamonds in them. A child shouts from the crowd:

"Oi! She's glowin'"

Only then do I notice the warmth on my back and I look up to the sky. It is a piercing blue, no clouds hiding the magnificent sight of the sun. A gasp runs throughout the crowd at the same time as they take a smart step back. My hair has fallen back from my face and the surrounding walls are speckled with brilliant light. Everyone is shielding their eyes from me.

I run.

Edward's POV

I can think of nothing but Bella. I am pretty sure part of it was a dream because, well, it's just not real. I laugh at my gullibility. It was a dream. But it did seem oh so real. But it wasn't. It can't have been. I'm pretty sure I saw her. My mind couldn't even begin to conjure up something that real…

I have been absentmindedly getting ready to go out and finish buttoning my cuffs. I straighten out my jacket and walk out of my room. I sneak out through the servants' quarters, picking up my hunting gun on the way out. A warm hand lands on my shoulder as I open the door ready to leave into the grey light of dawn and I turn to see the red face of the head cook.

"Where do you think you're going without breakfast?" I am propelled to the knotted wood of the kitchen table, polished to a dull gleam with use, by a firm placed between my shoulder blades. A bowl is placed in front of me followed by a ladle-full of rice-pudding. I go to pick up my spoon only to be halted by a signal from the cook. She disappears and I turn to the steaming bowl in front of me, breathing in the intoxicating smell. A loud splash makes me open my eyes to see a grinning cook and a dollop of jam on my porridge. I return the grin and get to my bowl as the cook bustles off, bowing low so as not to hit her head on the low beams.

Once I'm done I take my bowl and place it next to the towering pile of dirty crockery, ready to topple over and pick up my gun. Attached with string is a cloth full of sandwiches.

"I was thinking of lamb this evening but something a bit more… adventurous would be acceptable!" the cook hints at me to catch something good before beginning to hum a jaunty tune at the top of her voice as I exit the warm and cheerful kitchen, quietly closing the wooden stable door behind me.

The streets of London are quiet and full of mist so thick you can taste it, my footsteps are muffled and I can't see the street. A glimmer of the sun soon to rise can be seen on the horizon, peeking from behind the forest. It is there that I will catch our evening meal.

I hurry through the dreary city of London, empty except for the homeless until I reach the edge of the forest. Although the sun has now fully raised, a big fiery pit in the sky, the tall trees cast me in shadow stood on the roots at the edge, looking in to the deep, dark depths of foliage. I step forth.

I walk forward, turning toward any noise that punctures the inescapable quiet that comes with such dense greenery. All sounds seemed muffled as I trudge ever-onwards, deeper into the heart of the wood. By gun is slung across my back, out of the way.

I walk for what must be hours, concentrating on nothing but the monotonous green surrounding me, not even trying to remember anything other than now, not caring what is real or imaginary. Only now, that is all that matters.

The day wears on and I sit on the root of a tree, arching from the ground, twisting and furling only to lie on the leafy floor once more. I open up the package and feast on my beef sandwiches; I had not realised how hungry I had become.

An hour or so of hunting in the early afternoon rewards me with a handful of rabbits, and a large bird and I decide it would be best if I head back in time for my prey to be cooked.

I amble over the broken floor, whistling tunelessly and swinging the rabbits by their ears to the beat.

An hour or so later I am telling myself that no, I am not lost. I decide there is no point in panicking and surge forward, letting nothing deter me from my path as the sun sinks; not that I can see it anyway from under the dense canopy. I speed up to a brisk walk until I burst through a line of trees into a clearing adorned with a tree stump… Upon which sits a slender figure in a grey dress, icy-brown curls falling to cover her face which is in her hands in defeat. Another small figure curled at her feet, a small ball of trembling nerves in a threadbare flannel frock. Two twitching kid boots protrude from behind the thick tree stump, coinciding with the blood-curdling screeches that reverberate around the enclosure.

Of their own accord, my legs begin to take me nearer to the trio as I drop the animals and my gun to the floor. Two pale faces look at me at the thud they cause. One face is drawn in terror, red-rimmed eyes look up to me from beneath tear-stained hooded eyelids, past all emotion other than that of fear. Deep brown eyes stare up at me, through me, not seeing me, blind in terror as she is. The other is composed as always. I would know that face anywhere… But hopefully never again in such anguish as is portrayed at this moment in time.

I continue forward until I am a few yards away, finding it difficult to hear anything above the persistent screams that set my teeth on edge. I look at the beautiful creature in front of me and know that nothing was imagined. She is real. And something terrible has happened.

I step to the side until the figure on the floor comes into view, a sight that revolts me. The kid-boots of the dressmaker twist with her writhing body, long fingernails peeling lines of skin from her arms, face and pretty much any unprotected flesh, tearing away the pain that has her in its grip. I turn away into the beautifully flawless face of Miss Swan, her own pain clear to see. She is stood right beside me, looking from the possessed figure on the ground to me, a scared and apologetic face that seems to be surmising my reaction.

I open my mouth, not quite sure what to say and after a strangled breath close it once more.

Bella's POV

I look at him, calculating his reaction. He knows what I am and what I can do but knowing it is not the same as seeing it and if this scares him away…? I don't know what I'll do.

I feel a tugging on my dress and see Alice at my feet; before I can stop her she peers around my wide skirt and upon seeing Esme still contorting her body trying to escape the pain burning through her, her face crumples as her own sobs escape. Once again, impossible tears fill my eyes and I look to Edward, a grim look in his own. Alice drags herself by her arms, legs following limply, between Edward and I to reach Esme where she lies on the grass. Alice progresses to lean over her fevered body and she pinions Esme's arms to the floor to stop the violent tremors that wrack her body. Even from here I can hear her uneven heartbeats stuttering to keep going. This is not even nearly over. We've probably been sat here for what? About an hour? And even then it took us an hour to get here even with me running flat out; we're so deep in the woods no one should stumble across us but wait… a thought has just struck me. Maybe we're not as secluded here as I thought we were…

"Edward… What are you doing here? How did you get here?" I find my hands have reached for the collar of his shirt and although he is taller than I am his feet are not touching the floor. I look at his face, in his eyes, hoping to hear an answer that will keep us safe until Esme has got through this as I lower him to the ground. I wipe my hands as he points at the dead animals next to his gun.

"I was just hunting, the cook wanted me to get something" he looks around sheepishly before adding with a small smile "I got lost". He looks down, embarrassed. "You're pretty far out, aren't you? I must have been _really_ lost. Did I interrupt anything?" he looks up from under his eyelashes, his beautiful green eyes shaming the surrounding leaves as relief fills me up and I throw my arms around his neck. I look at his confused eyes to find us on the floor, me on top of him. I quickly stand up, adding to his dazed expression.

Oh shit. I'm a bit rusty on how to act around humans.

Slowly I kneel beside him, trying not to startle him anymore

"Um… Edward? You alright? Sorry for knocking you over there…" I add my own half-hearted grin, "I, um… I… Oh". My hands flutter over him before finally resting in my lap; I concentrate on the nails, now bitten down to the skin.

"S'alright… We'll have to work on your technique," he sits up slowly and I stand, extending an arm to help him up. "Thanks".

I look to the stump as another scream, louder than any I've heard so far, sending birds flying from the branches of trees, rips from Esme's chest. I crumple and once more place my head in my hands. Any relief brought by Edward has now disappeared. Alice will still be crying, in fact I can hear her whimpering now Esme has quietened down. I am pretty sure she's unconscious from the pain and I'm glad for her. But she'll still have to go through the rest. A warm hand is placed hesitantly on my shoulder and I cover it carefully with my own. I wouldn't have felt the pressure of the reassuring squeeze had I not felt it with my own.

I hear footsteps, knowing they can't be Edward's as he is still stood right behind me, knowing that Alice seems incapable of movement and knowing Esme is on the ground unconscious. I look around wildly for the intruder and look into the bleeding eyes of Esme.

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**Nasty ending... Oh well... I love Rob Pattinson's song on the soundtrack and the Blue Foundation lot and WOW for Twilight**

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**A**


	7. Revelations

**I do not own Twilight. **

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter VII – Revelations

No, no, no, no, no! This can't be right, it's been more like three hours than days! This is way too fast, what am I meant to do? I was going to spend that three days thinking of something to do! Aw crap!

I look at her, as she slowly turns to take in the sight of Alice, half curled on the floor, resting on her arms, and hair tangled around her still damp face, staring at Esme through puffy red eyes in… awe? There isn't an actual emotion on her face, not one that I can see anyway. Oh… damn. Esme's looking at her. She's licking her lips and feeling her teeth with a calculating look on her face as I tackle her to the ground.

"Edward! Get Alice… out of here!" I gasp out as Esme claws at my face, teeth bared and hissing. Her eyes are a blood red and I really need to sort this out. I'm holding her hands against the ground, trapping them with my own long fingers, straddling her waist with my feet curled behind me pinioning her legs to the earth. Her head is swaying from side to side at an incredible speed and I lower my face to hold her struggling only to be hit in the eye by her nose. I turn my head to the side and crush her face o the floor, stopping it in its tracks. I close my eyes, breathing deeply and smell the dead rabbits… they look fresh…

"Edward! Are you still here? Where are you?" I lift up my head to spot him.

"Alice won't move, I've managed to drag her to the edge…" His voice, coming from behind me, is strained and barely above a whisper. But I can hear him.

"Right…" I think about what I need him to do, biting my lip at the risk. "Edward. I need you to go around the edge of the clearing, right?" I explain as if to a toddler, a calm voice masking any panic.

"Sure…" his voice cracks, still quiet.

"But I need you to do it as quietly as possible OK?"

No answer.

"Edward, OK?" I press.

"Fine, fine" I can hear him swallowing clearly. He sets off and I can hear him whereas the woman under me gives no sign as to whether or not she can also. Until he trips over either his feet or a large tree-root. Esme wriggles under me in a fruitless attempt to escape my iron grip.

"Edward! Too loud!" I hiss between clenched teeth as I hold Esme down. I can see her trying her best to beat me, but I look on as I move not an inch. It is round about now that I realise she should be stronger than me, conversations about… arm wrestles? whispering at the edge of my mind; voices that I know are familiar but cannot be named. They all led me to believe that new-born vampires are extra sensitive to all senses… I am confused but can't think on it anymore as the scent of the rabbit's wafts towards us in the breeze and Esme whips up her head.

"Got them… Now what do I do?" Edwards voice quavers on the edge of barely contained hysteria. "Should I… er… throw them?" he wants to come no closer and I can smell the sweat of fear on him.

"Sure. You accurate enough? If you take a few steps closer I'm sure I can hold her", I encourage because if these rabbits don't reach here I can't get them and no one can come any closer. "Throw them and then run, okay?" I look at him and see him nod, staring at me. I smile back reassuringly and he sets his jaw into a determined grimace. _You can do this, come on…_I will for this plan to succeed, for him to save the day.

Edward stares at the rabbit in his hand and judges the distance before swinging his arm back to whip it forward. He flings it with force and I can see it's going to land too far. It's getting closer and it's all I can do not to jump up and catch it myself. It's showing no signs of landing and this won't work… crap think quick. There's nothing I can do. _Land nearer, land nearer, land where you're supposed to go which is _here_. _I chant in my head. This dead and insignificant rabbit is all that can stop the carnage of a new-born vampire.

I watch as the rabbit, flying through the air, defying gravity for all to see, plummets to the ground landing with a thud on the ground not an inch from my right hand still pinning Esme's arms to the ground. I stare in shock until I realise that Esme is trying to get free. How is it that I am so much stronger? Surely this can't be…

I absent-mindedly pick up the rabbit with my left hand, ignoring Esme's desperate head as it fights for freedom, and put the rabbit's wounds to her mouth; I myself struggle not to ravish it myself as I feel the last of the blood drained from the corpse.

Esme relaxes slightly into the ground with a contented sigh. I can no longer see Edward; or Alice for that matter. I could have done with that second rabbit actually as I still don't want to let go of Esme. _I really need that rabbit over here… But how am I going to do_ that_?_

I look around me quickly although what I'm looking for I don't know, maybe I hoped there was a metre-thick leather strap to bind her while I went to fetch the rabbit; or a thirty-foot branch. Instead I look at the dead rabbit next to me, Esme's eyes trained on its frozen form.

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**Oh no!**

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**A**


	8. Getting to Know You

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, everything recognisable is Stepheine Meyers**

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Chapter VIII

**Getting to know you**

Bella's POV

I don't care how the rabbit got there, instead I replace the empty one at Esme's lips with the fuller one. She drinks greedily and I slowly get up, a firm hand on her shoulder gripping tightly as she finishes the rabbit and wipes the blood from her lips with her tongue. She looks to me quizzically and I heave a sigh.

I can finally look at her and see that her hair now hangs around her heart-shaped face, a beautiful silken brown fallen out of its bun with the events of today. She really is beautiful. I stand, still looking at her as she rises also. She looks around her slowly, taking everything in. She looks younger and so lovely and caring that I find I want to just hug her and make it all go away. But she's already sniffing around the clearing for something to ease the thirst.

"Esme?" She snaps her head up to look at me even though I spoke no louder than a whisper. She gasps and steps back.

"You…" she raises a finger to point at me as her sentence is choked off with emotion, her face contorted in fear and anger as I hang my head in shame.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen." She stays stood in the same position as I walk towards her, begging forgiveness. I hear Alice crawling into the clearing and Edwards's pleas in the distance for her to go the opposite direction and tense up; ready to stop Esme in her attack…

Which never comes. I look at Esme looking at me until she sees my eyes and her reflection within them. She drops her eyes and looks at her perfectly manicured hands before dragging them over her body and the loose-fitting clothing.

"What's happened?" her voice seems steady and I don't know how to tell her. I think of possible ways to explain to her but can see the end result playing out: her storming off and frightened at the end of every speech. I hang my head. "Oh." I look up at her exclamation and see Esme with… understanding in her eyes? She knows? But… how?

"Didn't you just tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"About the whole…" she halts before whispering in a timid voice, almost embarrassed, "vampire… thing".

"What?" my face has got to show my shock and uncertainty… Am I loosing my mind? "I swear I didn't say anything to you."

"You did sound weird…" She's trying to explain, choosing words carefully and I'm pretty sure she's trying not to weird me out but for crying out loud we're vampires… how much crazier can you get? She nods. "You're right." My mouth falls open. I definitely didn't say that out loud. Could she have heard me? She herself looks bemused. "It's as if the words are going directly to my brain, I'm not even sure my ears heard you at all. Does that make any sense at all?" _Please make sense, I'm really not crazy._ Her lips didn't move for that last part… I think I know what's going on here… Maybe.

"Erm… Think something… Anything… Say: I'm called Esme", I close my eyes.

"Um… I'm called Esme?"

"No. In your head. Think it."

_I've lost her there. Maybe she's the one that's crazy…_ Esme's voice sounds in my head.

"Oi! I'm as sane as anyone here!" Her wide eyes register shock and then embarrassment. She had not meant for me to hear that. So… It's true. Powers. Wow… I know - knew - someone else with that power.

I look up into the sparkling green eyes of Edward.

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**YEY for Edward and his yumminess**

**Enjoyed it? Why don't you tell me and anyone seeing if it's worth reading it what you thought?**

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**A**


	9. Explanations

**Disclamier: What a shock, I don't own Twilight**

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Chapter 9 - Explanations

Okay, I have no idea what I was thinking when I thought I could incorporate this into the story so I am just going to say it because I don't know how this could be realised in the story… I am so confused! Sorry.

Anyway:

BELLA DOESN'T KNOW THIS YET!

She has every power imaginable because, as was explained at the start of the story, she was made to be like a super-vamp by the Volturri, so she has everything. This also affects who she bites as, being a vampire with venom as a weapon, it is of a higher concentration than normal so transformations are quicker. People she transforms take on none of the extra powers (unless they're like Edward or Alice) and have powers in the original.

So Bella has telekinesis (with the rabbits), and mind reading and can also, unlike Edward, speak to people like… telepathy for want of a better word. Admittedly I was watching _Heroes_ (which is awesome) while writing this bit. Also trying to incorporate Alice's future-seeing with the end of trying to tell Esme about the current situation. More powers to be revealed so, keep reading and find out!

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**Hope it's cleared a few things up, if not… Ask? I'd be happy to make an explanation up.**

**Thanks**

**A**


	10. Possibilities

_Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight_

_ENJOY!_

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Chapter 10

_Possibilities_

I look over at Esme, checking how she is. She looks coyly back at me. I am utterly confused. This is not at all how this is meant to happen. She is meant to be completely crazy with want, not stood looking at her instinctual meal. I rub my eyes with my screwed up fists.

I sit on the log and Alice runs into the clearing and Esme looks round, a feral glint in her eye. I can think of nothing but how tiring this will be, training Esme and will her to be like she was thirty seconds ago. Amazingly she sits on the grass, her eyes returning to a burnt golden brown.

"Esme? Are you alright? You really scared me," Alice is babbling with relief. "I _knew _you'd be alright but I still worried…"

"What now?" Edward asks at my ear. Esme hears the question and turns to hear my answer. Alice copies and turns to look at me, too.

"I guess we move out. They all saw us in town and we can't go back there." Esme and Alice look at each other, grief plain on their faces.

"But this is our home… That's our business back there, we can't just turn and leave it!" I just shake my head.

"No choice. Maybe York. It's busy but near some good hunting grounds." I don't look to see their reactions. "Edward… You'll come with us, won't you?"

"I'll sort something out with my uncle," he says.

"Okay. We should leave as soon as is possible, I guess. Will you meet us at the north gates as soon as it gets dark? Please?"

"Okay," he turns to go and disappears into the clearing. One minute later he reappears creating a commotion and I, believing it to be an intruder, jumped to defend our small group of three.

"Wow, you are slightly on edge right now," Edward comments as I stop one foot away from him, ready to pounce. "Could you… err," he looks around sheepishly," give me directions?" I relax and breathe. I grab him and place him on my back, tell Esme to not give in to her instincts, before running through the thicker woods and into the sparsely growing trees. I set him down and point the way he needs to go. He nods his thanks before running off. I head back to the camp. Esme and Alice are deep in their muffled conversation, Esme learning that for Alice to understand, she cannot speak normally for her anymore. I tune out their ramblings and give them some privacy.

Eventually the sun begins to set, and I place Alice on my back and take Esme by the hand. She accepts what must now happen and nods grimly. We set off and, even though I carry Alice, Esme begins to fall behind. I slow down and we amble through the woods and wait for Edward. Esme and Alice whisper their goodbyes to the town they have known all their lives as I hire a cart from a man passing through. I take up the harness and begin to run along the roads, feeling free and, for once, full of possibility.

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**A**


	11. Please read this

**Hi! I am trying to finish up all the stories that I have started so here goes! **

**It's been a while so here is a quick summary of all that has happened. I don't think I have missed anything out. **

**So a new chapter should be up later today, I hope!**

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Okay, it has been ages since I thought about this story and when I re-read it so that I could come up with a plan to finally get it finished I decided to right a couple sentences to keep everyone, especially myself, up-to-date.

So. Bella is a vampire and has been for a very long time. Saw beginning of world and made humans appear faster yadda yadda yadda.

Edward comes to England with his uncle in search of the legend of what's behind the door. He axes the door down and finds Bella.

Bella has never drunk anything a vampire would drink so she is starved and meets a human. Not good. Nearly kills him but gets a dog instead at the last second.

They go into the woods and she makes a makeshift notepad from some wood and crushes it so she can write and talk to Edward who guesses what she is. Edward gets drunk at some point, but I can't remember when. It's not important.

Bella goes through streets and realises her clothes don't really fit in. goes to Esme and Alice (Jasper and Alice are together) and asks for a dress. Esme cuts her finger and Bella goes crazy and bites her and then runs with Esme and Alice into the woods. On the way, Bella gets caught in the sun and is all sparkly so they can't go back to London.

Esme wakes up too soon so Bella has no plan. Traps Esme who for some reason isn't as strong as Bella even though she's all new. Edward finds them and gives Esme some rabbits and then runs into the woods with Alice.

Edward and Alice comes back but Esme does not attack. Decide to go to York. Bella is all stressed. Bella is a lot faster than Esme even carrying Alice. She is extra-strong and super-fast because the Volturri made her special. They also made her not need to drink so often so it is easier to control yourself so there is less of a problem with rogue vamps in the future. This trait is passed on to others so there are, hopefully, fewer accidents.

And this is where I pick up the story. They are on the outskirts of York.

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	12. Who said girls can't fight?

**A bit later than I thought but I couldn't stop writing. **

**Here's the next chapter!**

**Enjoy!**

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_Chapter 13 - Who said ladies can't fight?_

"You think you're up to it?" I ask Esme.

"Well we'll just have to find out, won't we?" she replies before seeing my worried expression and placing a delicate hand on my arm and giving me a smile so full of love. "I'm up to it," she says with sincerity. And how could this lovely woman ever do anything as awful as kill someone?

I beckon Alice and Edward who have been sat on a makeshift chair made out of a large root at the bottom of a huge oak tree. Edward has been calming Alice down. Edward offers his hand to Alice and pulls her from her seat.

"Everybody set?" I ask; a chorus of nods is the reply. I lead the way, head held high and walking with purpose past the guards who just stared at Esme and I as we strode through the big iron gates into York. I was bombarded with the sweet scent of blood, hearing every pulse pumping that glorious elixir of life around their bodies.

As a true predator I immediately came up with numerous plans to enable me to get what I wanted, and judging by Esme's change in stance she was thinking the same. But I looked around and seemed to hear who each victim would be missed by.

A scrawny man would leave behind three daughters, one son and his crippled wife to fend for themselves, a feat that would probably end in their death; the little part of my mind that would never give up carried on whispering that he wasn't even the size of an appetiser. A waste of my time.

Another man who the predator side of my mind was right now putting a shrine up to walked down the street, his red face aglow like a beacon of life himself and many jowls quivering as he strode down the street thought of the newborn son he would raise to pick up the family business.

But one man that stayed to the shadows and with a face of such intense innocence that anyone looking at him immediately became suspicious and checked their pockets, escaped my notice, overwhelmed as I was by more important matters as not blowing our cover and killing someone, until I heard Edward glowering at him. I looked up at Edward and asked him about it. I could see that this man would leave behind many girls, but whether they were daughters or a wife, I could not tell.

Edward saw my expression of puzzlement and nodded in the mans direction before whispering in my ear, "He is the one that takes girls… Tries them out in back alleys, ruins them… and then sells them to the whore-houses…"

"How can you tell?" I ask.

Edwards face is livid, and rightly so. "I just can… it's like he's bragging about it… can you not just hear him?" he says back to me, his mouth barely moving to form the words as he spits them out through clenched teeth.

I feel my stomach drop to my feet and hear blood pounding in my ears. It may be someone else's pulse but the effect is the same. I look at Edward, sorrow in my eyes and see that I may have to stop Edward harming the man instead of them stopping me. I don't think any of us would try too hard to save his life.

I tell Esme not to breathe and to think of Alice who is clutching onto Esme's hand like a lifeline, before forging our way through the crashing sea of people. People move aside at the sight of my pained face. Also if you act as if you have a right to be there, no one is going to argue with a woman holding a sharp looking parasol. (I picked it up from a cart we passed by). We walk down the aisle in silence, Alice being too scared to utter much and Edward radiating stress at the man before

Just as we reach the end of the street Esme puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me before nodding at Alice. She is about 10 feet behind us and slowly being consumed by the swell of people. She's staring at us and our clothes with a faraway look in her eye. We stare back for about 5 slow seconds before she looks at her own dress and seems to snap out of it and fighting the crowd to get to us.

"Why were we all wearing ball gowns just now?" she asks. We all look at each other before turning back to stare quizzically at her. "What?" she squirms under our gaze, awaiting our reply. None of us no where to begin but, as we all flounder for a suitable comment to say, I notice a poster tacked to a wall right behind our little psychic.

I push through the crowd to look at the advert that is tacked to the wall. The others group around me, peering over my shoulder to see the advert for the Masquerade Ball being held at the castle on the hill at midnight tomorrow night. As one, we look through the fog of the streets and see the lit windows far above us.

"Oh can we go!" Alice pleads from behind me and I look at Edward. He doesn't seem too opposed to the idea. "I've never been to a ball," she continues, swishing the mud-caked hems of her skirts. She looks at me – I seem to be the gang leader in her eyes, now – and opens her eyes wide in a puppy dog expression that I doubt anyone could refuse.

"We'll need new dresses," I say as Alice jumps up and down on the spot, startling some passers-by. A cough from behind me makes me add: "and a new suit for Edward." I take in the mud-caked hair that he's swept back and look at his outfit, ripped at the knees and with small snags where branches have caught him in the woods. He looks fine to me… Edward smirks as if he could tell what I was thinking. Strange.

"If you're up to it Esme…" Alice says thoughtfully before using her eyes to do the black-mailing once again. Esme also caves and we head over to get directions from one of the men slouched against the wall. Edward seems on edge. "What can they do to me?" I ask him. It doesn't help much.

"Don't worry Edward," Alice says, coming up in between him and me, "I have a feeling he's going to be really helpful. He'll probably just stare at Bella for a while, she'll do her impatient throat cough, the bloke next to him will absent-mindedly elbow him in the ribs – he'll be staring as well – and then the man you asked will remember where he is and will tell her to walk to the end of the road, turn left and then down the second alley and about half-way down there's a sign for it and just follow the signs from there." We all stop and stare at her, not least because it's the longest we've heard her speak; Edward and me, anyway. Nothing obviously gets in the way of her and a good party. "Or something like that," she mumbles, bashful about the attention and carries on to the man.

I get there before her and ask as politely as I can where the nearest tailor-shop is. He gawps at me. I meet Edwards eyes over Alice's head as she bops up and down with barely reined in excitement. I clear my throat impatiently and the man next to him, the dog-end in his open mouth balancing precariously on his bottom lip, nudges him roughly with his elbow. The man doesn't seem to notice his elbows independence, his eyes staying firmly glued to Esme. I stand up straighter and the man to whom I had directed my question gives a start and finally starts breathing again.

"Er… end of the road, love, turn left. Second alley on't right. 'bout halfway down there's a sign for it. Follow them signs and you can't miss it, Miss…" he stammers out, leaning forward and salivating slightly.

"Thank you, you've been most helpful," Edward says, nodding his head tersely as a kind of bow before grabbing mine and Alice's arms. I allow him to tow me to the end of the road. Esme follows next to me and with a nod in Edwards's direction I roll my eyes. Esme covers her mouth with her hand, muffling the giggle that escapes. I am not the only one who is being stared at.

At the end of the road Alice turns round and twists out of Edwards grip with a twirl. "Well," she says, dusting her hands together, "I told you so! They were looking at you two like pieces of meat." Edward glares at her. "Only saying what I saw! Isn't it freaky?" she asks, eyes bright. I take her hand in mine and we skip down the road.

"Indeed you did, Alice," I say as we set off down the second alley. "Can you often tell what's going to happen?" I ask.

"Actually, now I come to think of it, yes! Although I've never seen anything like the dresses before, or heard what someone would say… Just a feeling of how something is going to turn out…" she says as we see the first sign halfway down the road. I check to see that the other two aren't too far behind. "You think I am crazy now, right?" she asks, head down and with a melancholy voice.

"Alice. I am a vampire. You are most definitely not crazy, my dear." She cracks a smile at the idea that she is not crazy.

"I've got a feeling about that as well," she says, almost nervously.

"Oh yeah?" I am intrigued and almost sure of what she's going to say next.

"I just know that I am going to spend an eternity with Jasper, like you will with Edward," she says it matter-of-factly and I contemplate her words. But why would Alice and Jasper become like Esme and I? Maybe one of us loses control. But that can't be. We cannot let it happen. But she doesn't seem scared of the idea. Quite the opposite, she seems to be looking forward to when she can spend forever with Jasper. The idea seems familiar.

I wonder about how it could possibly come about as we walk through the market, a cacophony of animal grunts as animals run around the square, squealing and slipping as they run across the floor. The smell, although unpleasant, sluggishly covers any smell leaving my head gloriously clear as Alice and I pick our way in the direction the sign pointed us. Through the steam caused by the warm animal's excrement meeting the cold air, I can see the shop. Alice claps her hands in glee.

I look over at Edward and Esme deep in conversation and call to them; Esme looks up and I indicate the shop. She nods and smiles as I turn back and chuckle at Edwards bemused face. He obviously hadn't heard me.

I step into the shop after Alice and give the man behind the counter a glimpse of the amount of money I could afford to spend. His eyes nearly dropped out of his skull as I wink at Alice. I've been nicking money out of people's pockets. I feel bad but they wouldn't have even a concept of money if it weren't for me. That sounded harsher than I meant it.

"My dear little Alice is to have everything she desires," I tell the man, who rolls up his shirt sleeves, takes the tape measure from in front of him and putting it round his neck and pushing his wire-rimmed spectacles further up on his nose. Even the blonde hair on his head stands to attention as he goes from looks at Alice, the woman who shall be buying the material and possibly giving him his annual income in just one week. He could probably retire after our shopping trip.

As Alice peers at the racks of satins and silks, feeling each texture and testing the quality I go up to the man. "Are you skilled with a needle and thread?" I ask him. He takes a step back placing a hand over his heart in an exaggerated gesture of shock.

"You insult me, madam!" he says, a smile on his lips. "I am the fastest and with the best quality in the whole of York!" I smile back at him before standing up and twirling around in my dress. "Very nice," he comments, "where did you get that made?" he asks. I point to Alice.

"She is an apprentice. Her and her mistress made it overnight and still had time to make the hat," I say, flicking the brim of the hat. The man tries his best not to let his mouth drop open. I am about to ask if he has any spare needles or thread and maybe Alice and Esme could help make the dresses when Alice walks up to me.

"They're in trouble," she whispers before correcting herself, "or they will be." I look at her worried face and see that this is the real deal. Just as I am about to enquire further, like how were they in trouble, I hear Edwards voice over the sound of the market. I excuse myself from the shop.

"I'll just be one moment," I say, walking through the door before running back into the market place. Edward is holding onto Esme who has stopped breathing. A lifeless sheep at her feet. Damn.

Sensing a good piece of street theatre the people of York have crowded round to see what all the fuss is about as I fight through the crowds of people. I break into the circle and I see the anguish in Esme's eyes. I pick her up and put one of her arms around my neck.

"Edward," I whisper, "get her other arm. It'll be suspicious if I carry a woman the same size as me." I hiss as I turn to the growing audience. "Sorry!" I call out, "my friend has been ill recently and the herbs have reacted with her, I am afraid!" I say, hoping they'll buy my story as I have no idea what could cause such a thing. I don't give them time to doubt it before plunging into the crowd.

"Esme?" I whisper so quiet that only she could hear it. She groans just as quietly. "Esme, keep your head on my shoulder." She lets her head swing to the side and the people nearest take a step back. With her white skin and bruised eyes she looks a fate worse than death. You have to laugh at how fitting that phrase is right now. At the edge of the market, I flick some coins at the owner of a coup of chickens before picking a few of the birds up. He is too stunned to say anything except stare at the money in his hands. I pull Esme into the alley but tell Edward to go into the tailors. I give a bird to Esme and keep one for myself. I give the last one to Esme as well.

"Sorry," she mutters. "I don't know. I think a sheep-dog bit it and I just went crazy. I'm sorry." She drops her head in shame.

"Don't worry about it, okay?" I tell her and give her a hug. "Thank goodness it wasn't a person! I think they wouldn't have bought the 'my friend is ill' thing if it had been a person." I say with a laugh. "Not that it would have made much difference… but don't be afraid to hunt when you need to, okay?" I say, she nods and I wrap my arms around. She squeezes her own arms around me and squeezes tightly enough that I can feel it. I haven't properly felt anyone in such a long time.

"Come on, they'll be wondering where we are," she says after a while, turning into a mother, turning into the Esme I remember. We set off.

**

"How do you do this!" Edward exclaims as he drops his thimble again and rubs his eyes. The man – who's name we now know is Carlisle (a blast from the past, I can tell you) – looks up from his stitching, as do Esme, Alice and I. It is dark outside but we have plenty of candles and a roaring fire illuminating our work as we each sew as quickly as we can. Edward is not faring well. Alice laughs, slipping her thimble on the table and folding her material on her knee before placing it on the table. Esme and I insisted on the thimbles, not daring to risk any more catastrophes.

"Let's go get something to eat," Alice says.

"I know somewhere that does nice food," Carlisle said before taking in us girls in our frocks, now slightly cleaner due to the scrub we gave them earlier. "Or maybe I could get something in…"

"No!" Alice shouts. We all look at her. We seem to do that a lot. "I just mean I think we need to get out. You know, we've spent all afternoon in here. Let's have a change of scenery. And we can take anything they throw at us, right you two?" Esme and I agree and Carlisle nods his head; Edward looks relieved and gets up and stretches his arms above his head (letting me see how long they are and how tall he is and all his muscles and yummy!).

"Let's go then!" Esme calls, probably wanting to get out of the stuffy room. I have to agree with her.

The cool air streams past my face, carrying a variety of smells as Carlisle leads the way.

Esme and I order a pint of their strongest ale to mask the sweet scent of so many bodies as Alice, Edward and Carlisle peruse what's on offer. It seems to be a pot of brown mush with some barely identifiable bits of, for want of a better word, what you could possibly call meat. You'd have to close your eyes and forget what was going into your mouth to get the stuff past the gag reflex.

But Alice seems fine as she glides to our table in the back corner, a steaming bowl with a spoon in it in her hands. Carlisle keeps looking at Esme (he kept sneaking glances at her while we were sewing, as well. I think there may be something more going on between them, on his side at least) and Edward is staring at his bowl out of the corner of his eye as if it is going to grow feelers and escape out of the door. It wouldn't surprise me, really.

I stare as each mouthful disappears and Esme's nose is crinkled at the smell of the drink in front of her. It smells of piss, quite frankly. But the other three take huge gulps of the stuff. Amazing what people will do for nutrition. Although how you get any nutrients for something that has been stewing for so long I don't know. At least in their efforts to get rid of the stuff in front of them as quickly as possible, they are finished in a matter of minutes. We get up to leave and I pay for the food.

"No, you didn't even have anything. I can't let you pay!" Carlisle protests.

"Consider it in return for all the help you've given us," is my reply before pushing his hand away and handing the money over. "Keep the change." The man takes his hat off and takes it on a complicated twirl and under his arm as he stoops into a bow. I don't know what to say to that…

But I don't have to as Edward has just punched a man..

"Edward! What are you doing," I say as the man he punched clutches his bleeding nose and Edward massages his grazed knuckles. I stuff someone else's pint under Esme's nose before she takes off. I put my arm around her shoulders tightly.

"What was dat for you bastard?" the man shouts through his rapidly swelling lips. Alice covers her ears.

"Give me my pint back!" the man next to me shouts. He tries to take it off me but, not expecting such resistance, his hand slips and he falls into someone else. A howl of outrage is sent by the man he fell into as he punches the man who tried to take the mug from me. I look back to Edward and sigh before grabbing Alice's attention.

"Come on!" I shout, "Let's get out of here!"

I drag the three of us out the door; sit Esme in the street with the stinking ale in front of her before heading back in.

All hell has broken loose as, like a set of dominoes, the great mind of men thought simultaneously: 'you lookin' at me?' as each accidentally was knocked into the other by a misdirected punch. No answer is allowed, just a punch to the face and, usually, you were unconscious for the rest of the night. I fought through the mass of raining limbs and sharp fists until I saw Edward hanging onto the collar of the man he had punched to start it all, lifting him off the floor and shaking him, with rage in his eyes.

"Edward… Put. Him. Down," I say slowly, trying to get through the red haze of his anger. He looks at me but slams the man against the wall. "Edward!" I shout.

"Yeah, Eddie do as the lady tells-"

"Shut up," I cut off the mans sarcastic sentence. I make Edward let go and let the man drop to the floor.

"Nice one, lady," he says, still goading, his eyes streaming from the nose that looks broken. That crimson liquid… dripping down… let me lick it off… one taste couldn't hurt…

"Hey Eddie! At least I don't need a woman to fight my battles!"

He goes down silently with more than just his nose broken as I lash out.

* * *

**Yey Bella! And I liked writing this chapter! A thing I haven't done for a while with this story... **

**Review and tell me if you think this story is on the mend and how I could make it better**

**Thanks**

**A**


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